Definition of Ugly Crying: The kind of crying that scrapes at the bottom of your tummy, leaving you raw and sore; Crying that sounds like a wailing cat; Crying that renders all make-up, ice-packs and chocolate – useless.
I’ve learned a lot about myself over the years. One, I need to grieve alone. Some people drive quickly to friends or family and throw themselves into their arms, sobbing when soul-breaking hits. Not me.
Leave. Me. Alone.
Jenna, want to walk and talk it out today?
Jenna, let’s grab a coffee and you can process with me.
No, thank you.
Can I at least call you and affirm you?
I’ve wondered if something is wrong with me? Am I too proud to accept help? I’ve come to find, telling my precious friends I’m not ready to talk…IS asking for help. I’m asking them to help me grieve in the way that works for me. Finding friends that don’t take offense to this = ginormous blessing! All of us process heartbreak in different ways.
This is what it looks like for me:
- A LOT of ugly crying.
- Lying face down.
- Uglier crying.
- Grisly crying.
- Reading the Bible.
- Civilized Crying.
- Prayer journaling.
- Dainty crying.
- Repeat for minimum of one week.
True friends give us the space to ugly cry alone- if that’s what we need. Seriously, if I even look a friend in the eyes during this time, I burst into uncontrollable tears in school parking lots.
I just can’t.
Profoundly, the women in my life honor my request. They don’t come bursting through my front door. They stand outside my door and patiently wait for me to come out.
I recently had a season of mourning and each time I opened my front door, there was a mocha, or a croissant, or flowers or chocolate, or a note saying ‘You are loved’…even homemade Tabbouleh salad (UH-mazing).
Each treasure a reminder, “We’re here for you – when you’re ready.” This helped me in the healing journey more than the physical solitude. Because, I don’t really want to mourn alone. My body wants to be solo, but not my spirit. My spirit was being loved and prayed for as my body was huddled on the floor. I could feel it. And it made all the difference.
It’s teaching me to ask questions about my own role as a friend. How do my friends feel loved by me? How do they grieve? What makes them feel seen? How am I showing them I’m here?
This is sincere friendship. Meeting others in the spaces they understand as support. It may not match up with the way we receive support.
Three ways to help a friend who’s having a brutal week:
- Ask them what they need and accept the answer. If they don’t want to hang out, don’t push the subject. Find a way to love them outside the door – a thoughtful note, their favorite chocolate, cozy slippers. If you offer a coffee date and they say, ‘yes!’…jump in your car and hustle over there. Elijah affirmed his friendship with Elisha saying, “As surely as the LORD lives and as you live, I will not leave you.” (2 Kings 2:2) The point is to affirm they’re not alone.
- If they don’t want to talk, text them your prayers. I have a best friend who texts me prayers as though she is speaking them over me. Complete with, “Dear Lord” and “Amen”. Sometimes a simple, “I’m thinking of you right now,” is all we need. “My intercessor is my friend as my eyes pour out tears to God.” (Job 16:20) The point is to affirm you care enough about them to carry their pain to God.
- Bring them joy. Make them laugh. I have a dear friend who knew I was having a rough week, and instead of asking how I was feeling over and over, she texted me a photo of her newly cracked treadmill with the line, “I killed it with my fatness”. I literally laughed out loud. This gorgeous Mamma isn’t overweight, she’s 8-months pregnant! Laughter brings our spirits up for fresh air. “The nights of crying your eyes out give way to days of laughter.”(Psalm 30:5 MSG) The point is to affirm perspective. They won’t feel this way forever.
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